y 


®Itc  (Connection  of  Conflict  with  Resting 


A 

DISCOURSE 


DELIVERED  IN  WESTMINSTER  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH,  BUFEALO, 
APRIL  10,  1864, 


THE  SABBATH  NEXT  AFTER  THE  BURIAL  OF 


AARON  RUMSEY,  Esq. 


BY  JOEL  F.  BINGHAM, 

PASTOR  OF  THE  CONGREGATION. 


“ For  as  a Prince  hast  thou  power  with  God  and  with  men  and  hast  prevailed." 


BUFFALO: 

FRANKLIN  STEAM  PRINTING  HOUSE. 

THOMAS,  TYPOGRAPHER. 


1864. 


B ' 


At  a meeting  of  the  Session  of  Westminster  Church,  Buf- 
falo, held  April  11th,  1864,  the  following  resolutions  were 
adopted : 

Whereas , It  has  pleased  our  Heavenly  Father  to  remove  from  this 
world,  as  we  trust,  to  a better  our  greatly  honored  and  beloved 
associate,  Aaron  Rumsey,  Esq.,  therefore,  in  token  of  our  respect  and 
affection  for  his  memory  and  our  gratitude  for  his  fidelity  aud  great 
services  to  this  church  and  people, 

Resolved , That  we  desire  to  record  our  unspeakable  sorrow  at 
this  afflictive  event,  by  which  this  Session  is  deprived  of  the  sym- 
pathy and  counsels  of  an  amiable,  pious  and  influential  member,  by 
which  this  church  loses  one  of  her  strongest  pillars  and  the  cause  of 
Christ  at  large  and  this  whole  community  is  sensibly  bereaved. 

Resolved , That  we  trust,  however,  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
that  Providence  whose  dispensations  cannot  err  and  gratefully  own 
our  debt  to  Divine  mercy  for  the  gift  of  such  a man  and  for 
continuing  him  a blessing  among  us  for  so  many  years. 

Resolved,  That  while  we  shall  fondly  cherish  his  memory  in  our 
hearts  as  an  incomparable  friend  and  a mighty  man  in  affairs,  we 
shall  be  comforted  by  the  confidence  that  our  loss  is  his  immeasur- 
able gain  and  that  while  we  miss  his  presence  and  labors  here 
below,  he  is  doing  nobler  service  in  the  presence  of  his  Lord  on 
high. 

Resolved,  That  we  tender  our  most  affectionate  condolence  to  the 
bereaved  family,  praying  that  the  God  of  all  comfort  may  solace 
them  in  this  day  of  trial  and  lead  them  gently  and  safely  on  to  a 
glorious  meeting  with  the  husband  and  father  who  has  gone  before. 

Resolved,  That  the  discourse  of  our  Pastor  preached  yesterday 
afternoon  bearing  reference  to  the  life  and  struggles  of  the  deceased 
is  a truthful  delineation  of  his  character  and  a deserved  tribute  to 
his  great  worth;  that  it  has  comforted  us  in  our  bereavement;  that 
we  deem  it  calculated  to  do  good  by  inspiring  others  to  imitate 
such  an  example;  and  that  with  the  permission  of  its  author  it  be 
printed  for  private  distribution. 

Resolved,  That  these  resolutions  be  entered  on  our  records;  that 
they  be  printed  in  connection  with  the  funeral  discourse;  and  that 
a copy  be  presented  to  the  family  of  the  deceased. 

H.  PARMELEE, 

Clerk  of  Session. 


f 31280 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/connectionofconfOObing 


DISCOURSE. 


I HAVE  FOUGHT  A GOOD  FIGHT. — II.  TIMOTHY,  IV.  7. 


The  necessity  to  fight  even  in  behalf  of  a 
good  cause  cannot  be,  in  itself  considered,  the 
best  condition  of  existence.  We  instinctively 
feel  that  quiet  possession  and  peaceful  enjoy- 
ment are  essential  constituents  of  a state  of 
complete  ideal  good.  Then,  too,  the  most  jus- 
tifiable struggle  may  be  conducted  in  such  a 
way  as  to  become  a wretched  and  dishonora- 
ble encounter.  But  if  the  conflict  is  inevita- 
ble, if  the  struggle  must  come,  then,  the  fight 
becomes  good  according  to  the  manner  in  which 
it  is  pursued  and  the  results  which  it  is  com- 
petent to  attain.  Prowess,  skill  and  especially 
success  make  of  the  inevitable  conflict  a good 
fight.  Under  these  circumstances,  it  becomes 


6 


at  least  a deliverance  from  defeat  and  from 
danger ; and  it  may  become  the  strait  yet  feli- 
citous entrance  upon  a superior  field  of  exist- 
ence and  one  that  is  worth  more  than  the  toil 
which  it  cost.  The  life-long  conflict  of  Saint 
Paul  was  in  all  respects  such  a conflict. 
Whether  we  look  at  the  cause  for  which 
he  struggled,  or  the  zeal  with  which  he  con- 
tended, or  the  results  which  he  had  already 
gained  and  still  more  those  which  will  eter- 
nally follow,  we  feel  that  he  had  a right  to 
say,  “I  have  fought  a good  fight” 

It  is  true  that  Saint  Paul  was  called  to  a vari- 
ety of  struggles  from  which  the  great  majori- 
ties of  Christian  men  are  now  exempt.  There 
is  less  fierceness  and  terror  to  be  encountered 
now  in  u contending  for  the  faith  once  deliv- 
ered to  the  saints;”  or,  at  least,  the  forms  of 
resistance  have  been  greatly  modified,  since  the 
day  when  he  and  his  brethren  met  the  persecu- 
tions of  the  wicked  and  fought  the  good  fight, 
“resisting  even  unto  blood.” 

But  there  are  three  great  aspects  still  in 
which  this  triumphant  declaration  was  no  more 
true  of  Saint  Paul,  than  it  will  be  found  true,  or 
fail  to  be  found  true,  in  the  case  of  every 


human  life.  For  there  are  three  great,  inevi- 
table battle-fields  upon  which  every  man,  espe- 
cially every  Christian  man,  is  brought,  where 
he  is  put  to  the  hazard  of  defeat  and  at  the 
same  time  presented  with  the  opportunity  of 
winning  a victory  and  entering  into  a posses- 
sion of  its  honorable  rewards. 

T.  To  begin  at  the  beginning,  physical  life 
itself  is  one  protracted  battle  with  death . Ex- 
istence here  below  we  hold  as  a kind  of  dis- 
puted possession  which  is  ours  only  while  we 
are  able  successfully  to  defend  the  frail  cita- 
del of  mortality  and  to  keep  at  bay  the 
besieging  forces  of  the  enemy.  All  our  years 
and  all  our  health  we  clutch,  as  it  were,  a tem- 
porary conquest,  wrested  from  an  army  of 
fleshly  ills  and  maintained  against  the  steadily 
advancing  tread  of  time.  But  while  it  is  un- 
alterably true  that  we  come  into  the  world  in 
bodies  of  mortality  and  are  put  at  once  upon 
the  struggle  against  terrible  odds,  yet  the 
space  and  the  value  of  the  activity  which  is 
even  thus  proposed  to  us  does  not  stand  alto- 
gether unalterable.  It  is  true  that  the  day  of 
physical  surrender  must  come  ; but,  feeble  and 
straitened  as  the  resources  of  human  infirmity 


8 


look,  and  really  are,  it  is  not  true  that  no 
efforts  of  wisdom,  or  resolution,  will  avail  to 
enlarge  the  boundaries  of  effective  existence. 
It  is  not  true  that  all  the  actual  sufferings  and 
incapacities  of  our  damaged  race  are  the  inev- 
itable result  of  a hopeless,  iron-handed  mor- 
tality. It  is  not  true  that  the  diseases  and 
catastrophies  which  sweep  multitudes  into  pre- 
mature graves  are  the  helpless  victories  of  an 
irresistible  destiny,  overriding  all  possible  resist- 
ance and  eluding  every  possible  precaution. 
It  is  not  true  that  the  entire  multitude  of  lives 
which  are  protracted  in  languishing  and  anguish, 
useless  to  the  world  and  almost  worthless  to 
the  possessors,  are  the  irreclaimable  trophies  of 
certain  malign  forces  of  destruction  which  no 
human  strength,  or  foresight,  can  restrain.  The 
truth  is  that  the  race  is  unfaithful  to  itself. 
Men  are  traitors  against  their  own  lives.  It  is 
amazing  how  universally  the  obvious  means  of 
protection  are  abandoned  through  a shrinking 
from  the  cost  of  exertion,  or  a recoil  from  the 
sacrifice  of  self-restraint.  How  far  need  you 
walk  on  any  frequented  street  to  fall  in  with 
a youthful  voluptuary,  a gay  young  man,  so 
called?  His  step  is  buoyant,  his  pulse  bounds, 


9 


the  unspent  energies  of  opening  manhood 
promise  every  fair  and  honorable  and  useful 
development.  But  these  days  of  excitement, 
these  nights  of  debauchery  — how  long  do  they 
precede  exhausted  vitality,  acute  disease,  pre- 
mature death  — a life  thrown  away  ? How  far 
need  you  walk  on  that  street  of  sumptuous 
dwellings,  or  how  many  of  those  sumptuous 
dwellings  need  you  enter  to  find  an  example 
of  youthful  womanhood  enfeebled,  by  indo- 
lence, or  fevered  and  prostrated  by  an  over- 
strained pursuit  of  gaiety  and  fashion  ? How 
far  need  you  prosecute  the  search  to  discover 
sensibilities  damaged,  nerves  disordered,  morbid 
tastes,  discomfort,  discontent,  disease  laying  a 
short  stairway  into  the  grave.  If  you  turn 
from  the  haunts  of  luxury  and  look  over  the 
fields  of  toil,  the  money  and  advantages  which 
the  former  class  use  to  aid  them  in  throwing 
away  their  lives  the  latter  throw  away  their 
lives  to  gain.  The  coveted  possession,  for  the 
most  part,  is  gold  and  its  fascinating  equiva- 
lents, houses,  lands,  equipage,  stocks,  bonds, 
goods.  It  may  be  social  position  and  influ- 
ence, it  may  be  pleasure.  To  secure  the  daz- 
zling bauble,  of  whatever  variety  it  be,  a man 


10 


will  subject  his  body  without  stint  to  every 
extreme  of  fatigue  and  of  danger.  He  will 
brave  the  heat  of  the  tropics,  the  frosts  of  the 
pole,  the  malaria  of  the  wilderness.  One 
imprisons  himself  in  his  counting-room  and, 
without  rest,  or  abatement,  drives  on  his  hur- 
ried schemes  of  traffic  and  adventure,  relent- 
lessly, but  no  more  relentlessly,  than  the  days 
and  months  and  years  are  wearing  away  the 
possibility  of  those  hopes  which  he  is  staking 
all  to  realize.  The  frenzy  of  enterprise  which 
rages  within  him  steadily  strains  and  proceeds 
to  uproot  the  foundations  of  life.  Another,  as 
madly  bent  on  an  immortality  in  politics,  arts, 
or  letters,  wears  himself  out  in  superhuman 
struggles,  anxieties,  or  studies.  Another,  for 
gain,  or  glory,  undertakes  amazing  and  per- 
ilous feats  of  physical  strength,  or  dexterity, 
and  carelessly  sports  with  the  fearful  stake. 
Another,  from  some  temporal,  or  spiritual 
whim,  denies  to  his  body  her  necessary  com- 
forts and  nourishments  and,  though  it  is  never 
spoken,  actually  dies  by  self-inflicted  cruelty 
and  starvation.  Here  and  there  another,  from 
whatever  motive,  applies  the  knife,  the  pistol, 
the  poison,  casting  away  life  at  a fling,  and  is 


11 


called  a suicide.  But  how  much  less  suicides 
and  criminals  are  they  who,  under  any  pretext, 
damage,  or  enfeeble,  the  body  in  which  God 
has  drafted  them  to  the  battle-field  of  life ! 
How  extensively,  then,  do  the  majorities  of  men 
prove  traitorous  to  their  physical  lives  ! How 
feebly,  how  ignominiously  the  multitudes  of  the 
race  fight  the  battle  of  life  in  the  body!  Yet 
our  bodies  are  the  Lord’s.  Our  bodies  consti- 
tute the  visible  soldiery  of  God  on  earth  with 
which  He  proposes  to  conquer  the  forces  of 
sin  and  to  alleviate  human  misery.  Our  vital 
energy  He  condescends  to  make  the  recepta- 
cle of  the  Holy  Ghost,  while  He  commands 
our  strength  and  directs  our  efforts.  He  has 
employment  for  every  muscle.  Every  iota  of 
our  bodily  capacity  is  needed  and  summoned 
to  this  sacred  military  service  of  our  Lord. 
The  conflict  and  the  service  which  He  proposes 
even  to  this  mortal  energy  is  to  be  rewarded 
in  a world  of  immortality.  So  little,  therefore, 
is  it  a thing  to  be  despised,  or  neglected, 
much  less  to  be  damaged,  or  trifled  with,  till 
the  last  blow  has  been  struck  for  God,  the 
last  duty  rendered  to  His  cause  and  the  order 
of  discharge  has  translated  the  soldier  to  his 


12 


eternal  pension  in  the  skies.  Nobly  did  Saint 
Paul  struggle  in  the  flesh,  while  enduring  with 
an  amazing  vigor  his  prodigious  exposures ! 
Every  beat  of  his  pulse  was  husbanded  to 
strike,  or  to  endure,  some  new  blow  for  the 
Cross.  When  he  came  to  take  up  his  martyr 
crown,  an  old  man,  at  the  end  of  a long  hard 
service  for  Christ,  yet  able  still  to  endure 
hardness  as  a good  soldier,  surely  it  was  no 
mean  triumph  of  the  body  for  God. 

II.  In  the  next  place,  it  is  patent  upon  the 
face  of  society  everywhere  that  character , po- 
sition, wealth , influence  are  obtained  among 
men  by  a struggle  and,  come  as  the  spoils  of 
a conquest.  There  is  something,  it  is  true,  of 
all  this  which  may  come  and  does  come  un- 
sought to  a few  by  the  necessary  conditions  of 
society  and  by  the  sovereign  hand  of  Provi- 
dence. But  there  is  also  much  which  does  not 
and  cannot  come  in  this  way.  That  which 
comes  as  an  inheritance,  or  a legacy,  wholly 
from  an  exterior  source  and  unearned,  while  it 
may  be  solid  and  brilliant,  cannot  possibly  be 
so  assimilated  to  the  person  of  its  possessor, 
nor  can  it  possibly  constitute  a personal  quality 
of  the  same  efficiency  and  vigor  as  that  which 


13 


is,  as  it  were,  the  very  outgrowth  of  his  own 
life  and  springs  from  the  peculiar  properties  of 
his  own  individuality.  The  man  whose  influ- 
ence, in  whatever  sphere,  actually  exerts  the 
most  effective  power  upon  men  will  not  be 
found  to  be  one  who  has  received  his  position 
by  birth,  or  accident,  alone,  but  it  is  he  who 
has  won  his  place,  or,  at  least,  has  ratified  again 
his  title  thereto,  by  the  prowess  of  his  own 
activity  and  who  assumes  it  as  a conquest 
which  he  himself  has  won. 

Now  that  differences  of  station  and  influence, 
however  acquired,  are  in  any  considerable  de- 
gree fraught  with  equal  differences  of  advan- 
tage and  happiness  we  do  not  believe ; nor 
will  we  attempt  to  determine  whether  it  be 
really  better,  or  more  noble,  in  itself  considered, 
when  the  springs  of  sentiment  are  equally  pure 
and  the  motives  to  action  are  equally  earnest, 
to  stand  high  and  strong  and  to  be  ever  ascend- 
ing in  name  and  power,  than  it  were  to  stand 
upon  a lower  footing  and  to  move  ever  evenly 
forward  on  the  same  more  humble  level.  But 
it  is  certain,  we  think,  that  a temper  which  is 
voluntarily  satisfied  with  mediocrity  is  not  the 
foundation  for  the  best  and  noblest  type  of 


14 


character,  when  considered  in  respect  to  those 
relations  which  are  outward  and  public,  and 
least  of  all,  for  a Christian  character.  It  lies  in 
the  very  nature  of  martial  struggles  to  foster 
aspirations  to  excel;  and  the  Christian  life  is 
pre-eminently  a moral  warfare.  It  needs  the 
energy,  the  endurance,  the  quickening  spirit  of 
a sanctified  ambition.  An  ingenuous,  aspiring 
instinct  has  always  been  the  principle  which 
has  led  men  on  to  the  great,  useful,  heroic 
doings  of  the  world — doings  to  which  men  of 
lowlier  impulses,  however  excellent  and  amiable, 
could  never  have  risen  and  which  they  would 
never  have  attempted.  The  whole  life  of  Saint 
Paul  is  one  unbroken  story  of  his  struggles 
for  superiority.  He  counsels  his  brethren  to 
“covet  earnestly  the  best  gifts;”  and  for  him- 
self he  could  not  be  content  to  stand  u a whit 
behind  the  very  chiefest  apostles  ” and  would 
not  be  robbed  of  the  pre-eminence  of  having 
“labored  more  abundantly  than  they  all.”  It 
is  understood,  of  course,  that  all  possessions 
and  all  attainments  must  be  consecrated  to  the 
glory  of  Christ  and  the  putting  forward  His 
cause.  But  this  being  assumed  and  given,  we 
cannot  but  feel  that  the  battle  of  life  will  be 


15 


rendered  the  most  glorious  by  the  widest  scope 
and  the  nearest  imitation  of  this  Pauline  ambi- 
tion ; because  thus  mankind  will  be  the  most 
benefited,  piety  in  the  world  the  most  advanced 
and  God  and  the  Redeemer  the  most  glorified. 

III.  Finally,  every  believer  in  Christ  is 
called  to  a struggle  for  the  attainment  of  holi- 
ness as  a preparation  for  immortality.  For 
though  the  essential  change  of  temper  which 
translates  a man  from  the  kingdom  of  sin  and 
darkness  into  that  disposition  of  penitence,  piety 
and  prayer  which  is  called  the  kingdom  of  God 
is  a work  of  supernatural  grace  to  which  no 
human  struggles,  however  painful,  however  pro- 
tracted, could  ever  attain ; though  regeneration 
is  doubtless  the  miraculous  work  of  a moment 
and  the  conflict  between  the  human  will  and 
the  Divine  may  culminate  in  an  instantaneous 
conversion  to  God ; though  peace  of  conscience 
may  enter  the  soul  from  that  blessed  moment 
and  flow  on  unbroken  like  the  river  of  God  ; 
yet  peace  of  conscience  is  not  identical  with  a 
cessation  of  hostilities  in  the  soul ; and  it  does 
not  imply  that  the  natural  dispositions  are 
completely  pacified  and  subjugated.  On  the 
contrary,  the  good  work  of  grace,  however 


1G 


genuine,  however  powerful  and  controling  in 
the  favored  soul,  is  never  finished  and  never 
brought  to  a consummation  of  triumphant  re- 
pose here  below  ; but  the  order  which  Divine 
mercy  has  laid  down  for  our  spiritual  deliver- 
ance is  one  of  gradual  conquest  which  contem- 
plates no  completion  till  the  soul  herself  passes 
into  the  world  of  light.  In  cases  like  that  of 
the  penitent  thief  on  the  third  cross  of  Calvary 
and  here  and  there  a death-bed  conversion 
now,  the  campaign  indeed  is  short ; but  we 
must  add,  too,  it  is  one  of  doubtful  glory, 
little  to  be  envied,  still  less  to  be  hazarded. 
Our  little  ones  whose  brief  career  has  flitted 
across  our  -pathway  and  vanished  like  a dream 
have  happily  escaped  the  terror  and  turmoil  of 
this  conflict  in  the  soul.  They  have  been  ran- 
somed by  blood  Divine,  while  the  opportunity  of 
damning  unbelief  has  never  been  offered  them. 
Hurried  away  to  the  arms  of  that  Saviour 
whom  they  have  never  distrusted,  or  grieved, 
they  have  anticipated  conversion,  outrun  the  bat- 
tle of  life  and  entered  early  into  an  appointed, 
peculiar,  glorified  rest.  But  while  the  assurance 
of  their  undoubted  bliss  is  a precious  solace 
to  the  pang  of  our  parental  bereavement,  it 


17 


is  a dispensation  which  stands  widely  apart 
from  that  established  course  of  human  renewal 
which  is  coupled  with  a progressive  return 
toward  God.  The  good  man’s  soul  continues 
to  be  the  theatre  of  conflicting  forces  whose 
varying  successes  cause  for  him  a burden  of 
constant  care  and  startle  him  with  many  an 
anxious  alarm  even  up  to  the  moment  when 
he  closes  his  eyes  on  a deceitful  world  and 
opens  them  on  the  safe,  eternal  realities  of 
heaven.  It  is  a conflict,  we  say,  from  which 
there  is  no  escape,  but  that  of  shameful  surren- 
der and  perdition.  It  is  a war  in  the  members 
from  which  there  is  no  discharge,  but  the  final 
dissolution  of  the  body  from  the  soul:  Saint  Paul 
has  taxed  the  extremity  of  language  to  express 
the  magnitude  and  intensity  of  his  struggles  in 
the  spiritual  life.  “ I am  carnal,”  exclaims  he, 
“sold  under  sin.”  “What  I would  that  do  I 
not,  but  what  I hate  that  do  I.”  “When  I 
would  do  good,  evil  is  present  with  me.”  “ I 
delight  in  the  law  of  God  after  the  inward 
man,  but  I see  another  law  in  my  members 
warring  against  the  law  of  my  mind  and  bring- 
ing me  into  captivity  to  the  law  of  sin  which 

is  in  my  members.  0 wretched  man  that  I 
2 


18 


am!  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of 
this  death  ? ” Even  in  his  later  days,  in  view 
of  the  amazing  spiritual  conquests  which  had 
been  already  won  within  him,  he  would  only 
exclaim,  u Brethren,  I count  not  myself  to  have 
apprehended  that  for  which  I have  been  appre- 
hended of  Christ ; but  all  I am  able  to  do  is 
to  forget  that  which  is  behind  and  give  myself 
wholly  to  the  strife  and  the  hopes  of  the 
future.1’  This  risk  and  this  struggle,  then,  are 
the  price  of  a victor’s  joy.  “ To  him  that 
overcometh,”  saith  the  Master,  “ to  him  that 
overcometh  will  I give  to  eat  of  the  tree  of 
life  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  paradise  of 
God.”  u He  shall  not  be  hurt  of  the  second 
death.”  “I  will  give  him  to  eat  of  the  hidden 
manna.”  uHe  shall  be  clothed  with  white  rai- 
ment.” “I  will  give  him  a white  stone  and 
in  the  stone  a new  name  written  which  no 
man  knoweth  saving  he  that  receiveth  it.”  “I 
will  make  him  a pillar  in  the  temple  of  my 
God  and  he  shall  go  no  more  out ; and  I will 
write  upon  him  the  name  of  my  God  and  the 
name  of  the  city  of  my  God ; and  I will  write 
upon  him  my  new  name.”  “ He  shall  inherit 
all  things,  I will  be  his  God  and  he  shall  be 


19 


my  son.”  “I  will  grant  to  him  to  sit  with  me 
in  my  throne,  even  as  I also  overcame  and  am 
set  down  with  my  Father  in  his  throne.”  Oh, 
who  would  covet,  even  the  sweet,  swift  career 
of  the  infant  of  days,  in  comparison  with  the 
scarred  conqueror’s  eternal  reward  ? 

The  view  of  life  which  we  have  now  made 
to  pass  before  you  has  been  designed  to  be 
introductory  to  what  we  wish  to  say  of  the 
venerable  Christian  citizen  and  officer  in  this 
church  whose  recent  departure  from  this  life 
to  a better  has  left  a painful  vacancy  here  and 
spread  a pall  over  the  hearts  of  this  whole 
community.  For  every  one  of  you,  we  think, 
who  has  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  an  acquaint- 
ance with  him  must  have  felt,  during  the  pro- 
gress of  these  remarks,  how  truthfully  and  ap- 
propriately our  departed  friend  might  have 
said  with  the  apostle,  as  he  stepped  from  the 
stage,  u I have  fought  a good  fight.” 

Mr.  Rumsey,  being  among  the  number  of 
our  oldest  citizens,  of  course,  was  not  a native 
here.  When  he  first  opened  his  eyes  upon  the 
world,  this  city  had  no  existence  and  this 
whole  vicinity  was  a wilderness.  His  first 
breath  was  the  air  of  New  England;  and 


20 


there  in  the  midst  of  its  mountains,  its  morality 
and  its  thrift,  his  early  youth  was  passed. 
He  was  born  of  pious  parents,  who  were  in 
connection  with  the  Baptist  denomination,  at 
Hubbardton,  Rutland  County,  Vermont,  May 
6th,  1797,  being  the  eighth  of  ten  children, 
five  sons  and  five  daughters.  Two  of  the 
younger  children,  a son  and  a daughter,  died 
in  youth,  while  the  remaining  eight,  of  whom 
he  was  the  youngest  son,  all  lived  to  mature 
years,  all  became  heads  of  families,  all  proved 
decided  Christians  and  all  at  different  times 
removed  from  Vermont  and  settled  for  life  in 
various  parts  of  this  State. 

His  father  was  a tanner  and  farmer  of  mod- 
erate pecuniary  means,  yet  possessed  of  great 
simplicity  and  force  of  character;  and  though 
he  could  give  to  his  children  but  little  worldly 
substance  for  their  start  in  life,  he  gave  them 
what  was  better  than  wealth,  and  what  actu- 
ally brought  more  than  one  of  them  to  wealth, 
habits  of  assiduous  industry,  of  a provident 
thrift  and  of  the  strictest  honesty.  He  was  a 
parent  after  the  rigid  model  of  the  Pilgrims. 
If  he  was  somewhat  stern  and  driving  and 
held  his  family  to  labor  a little  more  strictly 


21 


than  necessity  seemed  to  require,  it  was  be- 
cause he  regarded  labor  as  the  great  safe-guard 
of  virtue,  because  he  was  anxious  that  his 
children  should  become  habituated  to  constant 
and  useful  employment  and  was  determined, 
if  discipline  would  do  it,  that  their  young 
energies  should  be  consolidated  into  the  per- 
petual habit  of  an  active,  honest,  well-aimed  life. 
This  was  the  type  of  character  which  was  im- 
pressed on  Mr.  Rumsey  during  his  whole  child- 
hood with  all  the  force  of  a father’s  precept, 
example  and  authority. 

His  mother,  too,  though  she  appears  to  have 
possessed  less  of  the  nerve  and  fire  which  was 
often  found  in  the  matrons  of  those  early  and 
hardy  times,  yet,  in  the  aspect  of  piety,  was  a 
very  remarkable  woman — remarkable  alike  for 
the  depth  of  her  religious  convictions  and  for 
her  fidelity  in  pressing  the  claims  of  religion 
upon  the  attention  of  her  children.  Not  only 
did  she  set  before  them  the  constant  example 
of  one  who  was  manifestly  living  for  the  ser- 
vice of  God  and  living  more  for  eternity  than 
for  time,  but  her  lips  were  perpetually  drop- 
ping upon  their  heads  fitly  spoken  words 
of  warning,  exhortation  and  prayer.  To  see 


22 


them  converted  to  God  and  to  be  assured  that 
they  would  lead  lives  of  religion  and  useful- 
ness in  the  world  was  the  unceasing  burden  of 
her  soul.  It  might  with  truth  and  emphasis  be 
said  that  she  “travailed  in  birth  again  with  them 
daily  until  Christ  should  be  formed  in  them.” 
It  is  doubtful  if  a day  ever  passed  in  which 
each  of  them  did  not  receive  from  her  some 
word  which  was  designed  to  draw  their  hearts 
from  the  world  and  to  win  them  to  Christ; 
and  it  was  an  ordinary  occurrence  with  her, 
taking  them  one  by  one,  to  kneel  at  her 
fireside  and  commend  them  to  God,  pleading 
over  them  the  promises  of  His  grace.  How 
could  we  expect  anything  else,  but  the  early 
conversion  and  decided  Christian  character  of 
children  who  were  thus  warned  and  wooed 
and  nurtured  for  God? 

Mr.  Rumsey’s  boyhood  was  thoroughly  con- 
versant with  toil.  His  early  years  were  passed 
in  assisting  at  his  father’s  business  and  in  at- 
tending the  district  school  during  three  months 
of  the  winter.  Everywhere  his  physical  prowess 
was  great.  In  the  sports  of  the  school-boys  his 
superior  strength  coupled  with  a perpetual  flow 
of  exuberant  spirits  made  him  always  a leader 


23 


there,  while  at  home,  in  the  manual  employ- 
ments at  which  he  was  engaged  with  his 
father’s  workmen,  he  was  always  facile  pr in- 
ceps  at  every  sort  of  labor.  It  is  related 
that  his  frequent  manner  was  to  obtain  from 
his  father  a certain  task,  as  his  portion  of  the 
labor  in  hand,  and  then  turn  it  off  so  speedily, 
as  to  gain  a whole  day  for  himself  which 
he  would  spend  in  assisting  some  neighbor, 
earning  wages  for  his  private  purse.  Labor 
was  his  element,  he  excelled  in  it,  he  enjoyed 
it  and  his  heart  was  always  as  light  as  the 
lark’s. 

At  the  age  of  twenty,  with  no  other  capital 
than  his  character  and  a thorough  knowledge 
of  the  hereditary  trade  of  his  family,  he  turned 
his  thoughts  westward  and  determined  to  set- 
tle at  Warsaw,  Wyoming  County,  in  this  State. 
The  journey  of  more  than  four  hundred  miles 
he  accomplished  on  foot.  Starting  from  his 
father’s  home,  in  the  month  of  June,  1817, 
with  a small  bundle  in  his  hand  which  com- 
prised his  whole  property,  in  a little  less  than 
three  weeks,  he  arrived,  weary  and  foot-sore,  at 
his  destination.  On  the  last  day  of  that  jour- 
ney, an  incident  occurred  which  he  never  for- 


24 


got  and  which,  as  he  often  declared,  oper- 
ated throughout  his  life  to  render  him  more 
thoughtfully  gentle  and  obliging  toward  the 
young  and  the  dependent.  When  but  a few 
miles  remained,  the  thought  of  finishing  his 
long  and  tedious  travels  having  excited  him 
to  push  on  with  unusual  speed,  as  the  day 
drew  to  a close,  he  found  himself  almost 
prostrated  by  fatigue.  Just  then,  a man  of 
respectable  appearance  and  alone  happened 
to  be  driving  past  him  on  the  road.  The 
temptation  was  too  strong  to  be  resisted  and 
he  asked  the  favor  of  a ride,  or  at  least 
that  his  bundle  might  be  carried,  to  a certain 
place  in  the  next  town.  But  his  appearance 
was  against  him.  He  was  covered  with  dust ; 
he  carried  his  bundle  slung  from  a stick 
over  his  shoulder ; his  hat  was  jammed ; 
and  he  was  staggering  with  the  soreness  of 
his  feet  and  with  fatigue.  Both  his  requests 
were  peremptorily  and  harshly  refused.  In 
reciting  the  story,  he  has  told  me  that  none 
of  his  later  losses  and  disappointments,  though 
sometimes  involving  tens  of  thousands,  have 
ever  affected  him  with  such  a pang  of  morti- 
fication and  discouragement  as  then  smote  his 


25 


young  heart.  The  stranger,  however,  was  not 
always  to  continue  a stranger  to  the  dusty, 
tired  lad  whom  he  had  so  cruelly  slighted. 
He  lived  to  know  him,  and  often  to  meet 
him,  as  one  of  our  leading  merchants  and 
wealthiest  citizens.  The  memory  of  that  act, 
one  cannot  but  believe,  brought  to  its  author 
many  an  unpleasant  reflection,  while  it  inspired 
the  object  of  it  to  that  life-long  vigilance  in 
which  we  have  admired  him  lending  his  ever 
ready  sympathy  and  aid  to  the  needy  and  the 
friendless. 

He  soon  entered  into  a business  partnership 
with  an  older  brother  who  had  settled  in 
Warsaw  several  years  before.  The  business 
was  prosecuted  successfully  here  and  his  affairs 
began  to  prosper.  Early  in  the  summer  of 
1827,  having  some  years  before  become  united 
in  marriage  to  the  lady  who  now  survives 
him  and  having  already  acquired  some  worldly 
substance,  he  removed  his  family  and  his 
business  to  Westfield,  Chatauqua  County,  in 
this  State,  where  pecuniary  success  still  attended 
him  and  he  steadily  accumulated  property.  It 
was  here  that  God  met  him  with  the  irresistible 
power  of  His  grace.  Some  time  in  the  winter 


26 


of  1830,  the  Rev.  Samuel  G.  Orton,  a man 
full  of  faith  and  prayer  who  has  since  become 
so  extensively  known  in  this  region  and  whom 
so  many  regard  as  their  spiritual  father,  labor- 
ing at  that  time  in  the  vicinity  as  an  evan- 
gelist, came  to  Westfield,  while  a series  of 
daily  religious  meetings  were  in  progress  there. 
Discovering,  in  some  way,  that  Mr.  Rumsey 
was  in  a state  of  religious  anxiety,  he  fol- 
lowed him  one  evening  from  the  meeting 
to  his  house,  and,  late  in  the  night,  conversing 
with  him  affectionately  and  faithfully,  became 
the  apparent  instrument  of  bringing  him  to 
Christ.  His  change,  from  the  first,  was  great 
and  decided.  He  had  passed  through  at  least 
three  powerful  revivals  in  his  native  town 
without  apparent  concern  ; during  his  residence 
at  Warsaw,  he  had  been  brought  more  or 
less  into  contact  with  a revived  state  of  reli- 
gious feeling  without  receiving  any  obvious 
spiritual  impulse  ; but,  now,  God  laid  hold  on 
him  with  a power  which  he  could  neither  evade 
nor  withstand.  At  the  age  of  thirty-two,  he 
came  out  for  the  first  time  as  the  friend  of 
Jesus,  but  he  came  out  prominently,  at  once, 
and  continued  ever  after  an  eminently  active 


27 


Christian  man.  While  he  cherished  a life-long 
sentiment  of  gratitude  toward  Mr.  Orton,  of 
whom  he  often  spoke  and  for  whom  he  felt  to 
the  last  a strong  personal  affection,  he  greatly 
disliked  to  be  called  the  convert  of  any  man,  or 
to  hear  any  man’s  converts  spoken  of.  “I  hope,” 
he  would  say,  “I  am  a convert  of  the  Lord.” 

He  came  to  reside  in  this  city  in  1834,  con- 
necting himself,  also,  the  same  year,  with  the 
First  Presbyterian  Church,  then  under  the  pas- 
toral care  of  Dr.  Hopkins.  He  was  always  to 
be  found  at  the  week-day  lectures  and  meet- 
ings for  prayer,  was  always  engaged  in  the 
Sunday  School  and,  everywhere,  was  a parti- 
cipant in  every  good  word  and  work ; and 
these  qualities,  taken  in  connection  with  his 
now  large  and  constantly  increasing  pecuniary 
ability,  soon  made  him  one  of  the  pillars  in  that 
congregation. 

In  the  autumn  of  1835,  the  declining  health 
of  his  wife  induced  him  to  visit  the  Southern 
States  of  the  Union.  Here  he  passed  the  ensu- 
ing winter  in  traveling,  for  the  most  part,  within 
the  limits  of  Mississippi  and  Louisiana,  and,  in 
his  migratory  stay,  had  much  intercourse  with 
the  planters.  He  also  spent  the  winter  of 


28 


1858-59,  for  a similar  reason,  in  South  Carolina. 
We  think  it  worthy  of  notice  — and  the  more  so 
because  it  has  sometimes  proved  otherwise  with 
Northern  men  — that  his  sentiments  in  the  mat- 
ter of  slavery  underwent  no  essential  change 
by  coming  into  the  closest  contact  with  it 
and  observing  it  in  its  most  peculiar  home. 
He  hated  and  dreaded  it  before,  he  hated  and 
dreaded  it  still. 

His  worldly  prosperity,  though  on  the  whole 
it  was  very  remarkable  through  life,  yet  did 
not  suffer  him  to  escape  unscathed  by  great 
reverses.  During  his  first  visit  to  the  South,  a 
great  commercial  crisis  swept  over  the  land; 
and  he  came  home  to  find  himself  with  thou- 
sands of  others  financially  a ruined  man.  But 
his  courage  was  undaunted.  He  had  now 
passed  the  prime  of  middle  life,  yet  he  earnestly 
began  anew.  Providence  smiled  upon  him 
more  bountifully  than  ever  before,  within  a very 
few  years  his  fortune  was  more  than  repaired 
and  he  has  long  stood  again  among  the 
wealthiest  of  our  citizens. 

During  the  years  1831-32,  a church  edifice 
was  built  on  Lafayette  street,  fronting  upon  the 
north  side  of  the  Park ; and,  soon  after,  a 


Christian  society  was  organized  there,  under  the 
name  of  the  Free  Church.  The  experiment  of 
free  pews,  however,  failed ; and  a new  organiza- 
tion was  formed,  in  1839,  under  the  name  of  the 
Park  Presbyterian  Church.  When  this  second 
effort  was  put  forward  there,  yielding  to  a 
sentiment  of  duty  and  in  company  with  about 
thirty  others,  he  transferred  his  church  relations 
thither.  Here  he  was  elected,  for  the  first  time, 
to  the  eldership  of  the  church  and  was  or- 
dained in  1840.  The  new  enterprise,  however, 
through  some  unforeseen  hindrances,  proving 
unsuccessful  at  that  time,  he  and  nearly  all  who 
came  with  him  returned,  after  about  four  years, 
to  their  former  connection  with  the  First  Church. 
In  1852,  he  was  elected  to  the  eldership  there 
and  continued  to  do  active  and  large  Chris- 
tian service  in  that  congregation,  until  the 
removal  of  his  residence  from  Swan  to  Delaware 
street  brought  him  near  to  a younger  church 
which  needed  him,  when  he  again  broke  away 
from  the  cherished  Christian  bonds  which  had 
been  growing  for  a quarter  of  a century  and 
united  himself  here,  September  13th,  1857.  In 
December,  of  the  same  year,  he  was  elected  to 
the  eldership  of  this  church  ; and  it  would  not 


30 


be  easy  to  tell  how  it  were  possible  for  a man 
to  show  himself  to  be  more  deeply  interested  in 
the  welfare  of  a congregation,  or  more  con- 
scientiously faithful  to  the  duties  of  his  of- 
fice, than  he  has  shown  himself  to  be  among 
us,  from  that  day  forward  to  the  close  of 
his  career.  That  he  was  a tower  of  strength 
here  you  need  not  be  told.  This  house  is  his 
monument,  in  the  sense  that  he  not  only  con- 
tributed toward  the  cost  of  its  erection  double 
the  amount  of  any  other  donor,  with  one  muni- 
ficent exception,  but,  when  the  subscription  had 
flagged  and  seemed  ready  to  fail  at  about  half 
the  necessary  amount,  he  seized  the  paper  and, 
devoting  some  days  to  the  work,  by  dint  of 
his  peculiar  vigor,  skill  and  personal  influence, 
brought  the  figures  up  to  a point  at  which  it 
was  deemed  safe  to  go  forward ; and,  eventu- 
ally, he  assumed  a conditional  responsibility  for 
the  remainder.  He  was  elected  to  the  board 
of  trustees  of  this  society  in  1857,  was  soon 
after  made  president  of  the  board  and  con- 
tinued in  this  position  till  his  decease. 

In  the  spring  of  1862,  one  of  his  sons,  in 
the  hope  of  deriving  benefit  to  a state  of  health 
which  had  become  seriously  impaired,  deter- 


mined  upon  journeying  abroad  with  his  family. 
More  from  anxiety  for  the  result  of  the  experi- 
ment upon  his  son  and  from  a desire  to  be 
near  him,  than  from  any  other  motive,  he 
decided  to  be  one  of  the  company  and,  on 
the  ninth  of  April,  sailed  from  New  York  for 
Liverpool.  The  summer  was  spent  in  traveling 
in  England  and  on  the  continent.  Though  now 
nearly  seventy  years  old,  he  climbed  mountains 
and  waded  up  through  the  volcanic  ashes  of 
Vesuvius  with  the  youngest  and  the  halest. 
Under  the  excitement  of  the  time,  the  fire  of 
youth  seemed  to  return  and  nothing  could 
exceed  the  zest  with  which  he  threw  himself 
into  the  exhilarations  of  foreign  travel.  The 
health  of  his  son  improving  and  being  himself 
sated  with  sight-seeing,  he  left  the  rest  of  the 
party  to  continue  their  travels  and  returned 
home  in  the  following  autumn.  He  never 
acknowledged  the  consciousness  of  any  incon- 
venience as  arising  from  his  travels  abroad ; 
yet  to  a familiar  eye  it  was  plain  that  he  had 
brought  back  much  less  vigor  than  he  carried 
away.  He  seemed  during  those  months  of 
absence  to  have  grown  old  by  years ; and  his 
accustomed  elasticity  of  nerve  and  muscle  never 


returned.  From  this  time,  his  descent,  though 
almost  imperceptible,  was  steady  and  sure. 
Within  a few  swift  months,  he  reached  the 
shore  of  the  shoreless  sea  and  departed  from 
our  sight  on  his  last  and  best  journey,  at  early 
dawn  of  the  sixth  day  of  April,  1864. 

In  the  meeting  for  social  worship,  as  nearly 
as  I can  remember,  the  last  in  which  he  was 
present,  he  spoke  and  prayed  in  a most  remark- 
able manner.  We  always  expected  from  him 
earnestness  and  fervor.  We  always  expected 
him  to  draw  upon  the  most  solemn  verities  of 
religion  and  to  deal  with  the  deepest  emotions 
of  our  hearts.  But,  on  that  evening,  he  seemed 
to  have  received  a new  anointing.  His  mind 
was  wonderfully  clarified  and  quickened  and  his 
heart  was  stirred  to  its  lowest  depths.  With 
moistened  eyes  and  a manner  of  abasement 
in  the  dust  before  God,  he  brought  before  us, 
out  of  the  manifest  sincerity  of  a full  heart, 
the  emptiness  of  this  world,  the  great  and  tran- 
sient privilege  of  doing  good,  the  brevity  of 
life,  the  preciousness  of  the  Christian’s  hope  and 
the  claims  of  perishing  souls  on  our  sympathy, 
prayers  and  efforts;  and  then,  he  poured  out 
his  soul  in  prayer  with  a tenderness,  a copious- 


33 


ness  and  a power  which  seemed  to  bring  heaven 
near  to  that  room  of  prayer.  I was  touched 
and  could  not  forbear  to  speak  of  it  to  a friend, 
as  we  left  the  place  ; but  little  did  we  dream 
that  his  spirit  was,  even  then,  pluming  her 
pinions  for  the  everlasting  flight. 

His  disease,  at  first,  laid  a gentle  hand  upon 
him  and  confined  him  to  his  parlor.  Here, 
though  none  of  us  then  apprehended  an  ap- 
proaching dissolution,  he  conversed  with  me, 
often,  upon  personal  religion ; and  he  seemed 
never  to  be  quite  satisfied  until  the  conversation 
had  turned  upon  some  aspect  of  the  great  reali- 
ties of  existence.  “ I have  been  thinking,”  said 
he  to  me  one  afternoon,  u I have  been  thinking, 
all  the  morning,  whether  I would  be  put  back 
again  into  youth,  if  I could,  and  start  as  a young 
man  again,  even  if  I could  keep  my  experi- 
ence, some  of  which  I bought  very  dear,  and 
could  avoid  what  I have  found  to  be  mistakes. 
At  first  I thought  I would,  but,  on  reflection, 
I wouldn’t.  I have  tried  a great  many  condi- 
tions in  life  ; I have  seen  its  dark  sides  and 
its  bright  sides  ; I have  felt  its  ups  and  downs ; 
I have  been  gratified  and  I have  been  disap- 
pointed ; I have  failed  and  I have  succeeded ; 

3 


34 


and  I am  satisfied  that  one  experience  of  life 
is  sufficient.  I have  had  enough  of  it.  Its 
best  successes  will  not  pay — will  not  pay  for 
the  necessary  struggle — will  not  pay  for  the 
temptation  and  risk  of  character  — will  not  pay 
a man  who  is  prepared  to  die  for  staying  away 
from  a better  world.” 

When  his  disease  had  at  length  forced  him 
down  upon  the  bed  from  which  he  never  rose, 
often,  in  my  daily  visits,  I still  received  the 
most  precious  assurance  that  the  Saviour  was 
leading  His  trusting  servant,  gently  and  com- 
fortably down,  into  the  thickening  shades  of  the 
dark  valley.  His  faith  and  Christian  peace 
seemed  never  for  a moment  to  waver.  At  one 
time,  having  silently  entered  the  room,  I sat  at 
his  bed-side  hardly  expecting  that  he  would 
rouse  to  recognize  me,  from  the  deep  lethargy 
into  which  he  had  sunk,  when  he  opened  his 
eyes  and  seeing  me  there  said  with  an  effort 
to  smile,  “Oh,  is  it  you?  God  bless  you  in 
your  work ! It  is  uncertain  if  I shall  ever  do 
much  more,  but  I pray  God  to  bless  His  word.” 
At  another  time,  it  was  a Sabbath  morning,  as 
he  opened  his  drowsy  eyes  and  saw  me  sitting 
there,  he  said,  “ I know  you  have  a message  for 


35 


the  people  to-day,  yon  must  go  and  deliver  it 
and  my  prayers  go  with  you.”  At  another 
time,  in  reply  to  my  inquiry  whether  he  could 
now  leave  himself  and  all  with  confidence  and 
comfort  in  the  hands  of  the  Saviour,  he  said,  in 
a slow  and  feeble  voice,  but  with  an  emphasis 
which  I shall  never  forget,  for  he  seemed  to 
weigh  the  meaning  of  every  word,  u I think  I 
can  truly  say  I know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth.” 
All  his  later  utterances,  indeed,  have  been  such 
as  Christian  solicitude  is  ever  eager  at  such  a 
time  to  secure  and  have  been  all  that  Christian 
affection  could  desire.  But  we  needed  no  such 
last  words  to  tell  us  where  his  hope  and  his 
treasure  lay. 

The  first  aspect  of  Mr.  Rumsey’s  character 
which  would  probably  arrest  the  notice  of  a 
stranger  and  one  which  would  continue  to 
grow  upon  the  attention  of  every  observer, 
the  longer  an  acquaintance  continued,  was 
his  all-conquering  energy.  You  could  not  be  a 
half  hour  in  his  company,  though  it  were  for 
the  first  time,  without  gaining  the  impression 
that  he  was  a mighty  man  ; and  you  could  not 
have  made  your  acquaintance  so  extended,  or 
have  been  admitted  to  a familiarity  so  intimate, 


as  ever  to  bring  you  to  cease  from  wondering 
at  the  prodigious  forces  of  being  which  were 
combined  in  his  character.  While  there  was 
not  a vestige  of  asperity,  or  of  censoriousness, 
in  his  nature,  which  was  as  gentle  and  loving 
as  a lamb,  yet  his  heart  was  a lion-heart  and 
his  hand,  a hand  of  iron.  So  dominant  and 
pervading  was  this  energetic  element  as  to 
stamp  itself  in  a distinct  and  distinguishing 
feature  upon  the  current  of  his  whole  life, 
physical,  social,  religious. 

His  bodily  frame  was  cast  in  a mould  of 
strength.  His  stature  rose  a good  way  above 
the  ordinary  height,  his  whole  figure  was  suit- 
ably proportioned  upon  the  same  large  scale 
and  the  first  glance  impressed  you  with  the 
idea  of  physical  power.  During  almost  a score 
of  years  after  that  period  of  life  when  the  ma- 
jority of  men  sensibly  feel  the  weight  of  years 
and  exhibit  evident  signs  of  growing  infirmity, 
the  elasticity  of  his  step  and  the  easy  activity  of 
his  limbs  made  you  wonder  still  at  the  endur- 
ance and  vigor  of  that  giant  frame.  His  vital 
forces  had  never  been  hoarded  by  avoiding 
the  exhaustion  of  labor,  exposure,  or  anxiety; 
for  few  men  are  called  to  severer  struggles  of 


37 


every  sort,  than  was  he,  especially  in  his 
younger  life ; but  he  inherited  a firm  constitu- 
tion which  was  well  fostered  by  the  pure  air 
and  frugal  culture  of  his  early  home;  and  his 
life-long  habits  of  temperance,  industry  and 
severe  regularity  produced  that  perfection  of 
health  and  that  extraordinary  power  of  exer- 
tion which  remained  unimpaired,  until  the  vital 
force  itself  was  spent  and  only  relaxed  its  hold 
on  material  things  before  the  inevitable  law  of 
nature.  But  though  the  body  must  sink,  at 
last,  it  is  certainly  felicitous,  it  is  enviable,  it  is 
grand,  thus  to  live  this  mortal  life  in  the  flesh, 
thus  to  wrest  from  disease  and  infirmity  fruit- 
ful years  of  strength  and  labor;  and,  while  the 
majority  of  men  are  wasting  so  much  of  their 
earthly  existence  in  pain  and  idleness,  to  redeem 
a strong,  whole  life  to  useful  activity  and  the 
service  of  God.  Surely  such  an  one,  and  he 
was  eminently  such  an  one,  may  justly  and  tri- 
umphantly say,  “ By  the  grace  of  God,  even 
with  the  energies  of  my  mortal  body,  I have 
fought  a good  fight.” 

Socially — in  every  sphere  of  outward  life 
and  influence  — the  energy  of  his  character  was 
as  obvious,  as  the  results  were  abundant  and 


38 


honorable.  Wherever  practical  projects  were 
to  be  wrought  out,  wherever  business  was  to 
be  transacted,  wherever  men  were  to  be  dealt 
with,  while  perfect  integrity  and  fairness  always 
ruled  the  hour,  yet  nothing  which  vigor, 
promptness  and  rapidity  could  accomplish,  ever 
failed  in  his  hands.  Some  such  project  was  per- 
petually under  his  attention.  He  could  not  be 
idle  for  an  hour ; nor  could  he  be  contentedly 
occupied  with  anything  which  did  not  directly 
contribute  to  some  desired  and  useful  end. 
If,  as  is  often  said,  circumstances  alone  force 
some  men  into  wealth,  standing  and  influence, 
the  remark  bears  no  application  to  him.  What- 
ever he  was,  whatever  he  had,  whatever  he 
accomplished  was  reached,  obtained,  wrought 
out,  under  a favoring  Providence,  by  the  nerve 
of  his  own  arm  and  the  courage  and  kindness 
of  his  own  heart;  and  every  one,  who  knows 
anything  of  the  rush  and  turmoil  of  worldly 
affairs,  knows  that  these  ascending  grades,  espe- 
cially in  the  path  of  commercial  enterprise,  are 
not  to  be  trod  by  mediocrity,  or  sloth,  but  are 
accomplished,  if  at  all,  by  a series  of  con- 
quests over  difficulties  and  in  the  face  of  oppo- 
sitions of  the  most  stern  and  trying  sort.  In 


39 


these  struggles  of  men,  in  sagacity,  skill  and 
labor,  as  well  as  in  those  smoother  and  more 
benign  exertions  which  he  was  ever  making  in 
the  interest  of  morality  and  religion,  friend- 
ship and  benevolence,  he  always  wrought  with 
the  arm  of  a giant  and  with  the  ardent  enthu- 
siasm of  one  who  was  doing  with  his  might 
what  his  hand  found  to  do.  Oh,  what  a cloud  of 
witnesses  might  be  summoned  before  you,  here, 
to-day,  to  testify  how  his  delicate  attentions  of 
friendship  and  his  bountiful  acts  of  benevo- 
lence were  perpetually  carried  forward  with  the 
same  assiduity  and  the  same  whole-heartedness, 
as  the  strictest  and  most  profitable  transactions 
of  commerce ! It  is  true  that  such  qualities 
and  such  exertions  do  not  always  succeed,  in 
the  obvious  results  of  the  present  existence. 
Possessing  exactly  the  same  qualities  and  mak- 
ing the  same  exertions,  he  might  have  been  less 
successful,  less  appreciated,  loved  and  honored, 
had  God  been  pleased  to  thwart  his  plans  and 
defeat  his  exertions,  as  the  Infinite  One  often 
sees  fit  to  do  with  the  wisest  human  plans  and 
the  most  vigorous  human  exertions.  But  he 
was  not  defeated.  A favoring  Providence  was 
pleased  to  crown  his  struggles  with  final  and 


40 


great  success;  and,  as  he  passed  away  to  a 
nobler  life,  what  less  could  his  thankful,  con- 
tented spirit  say,  than  this,  “By  the  grace  of 
God,  I have  fought  a good  fight , even  in  respect 
to  the  sordid  collisions  of  time?” 

These  aspects  of  life,  while  they  seem  worthy 
and  profitable  to  be  noted,  when  appearing  so 
conspicuous  as  they  appeared  in  the  subject  of 
these  remarks,  yet  fade  into  insignificance,  in 
comparison  with  that  view  which  is  religious, 
spiritual,  eternal.  But  then,  the  religious  life 
is  essentially  an  invisible  development.  It  is 
of  necessity  an  inner,  hidden,  unseen  process. 
We  are  left  mainly  to  judge  by  external  signs 
of  what  has  been  accomplished  in  secret.  We 
may  see  evident  results,  but  the  inward  pro- 
cesses lie  beyond  the  sphere  of  observation. 
These  results  we  have  indeed  perceived  in  him 
of  whom  we  here  speak,  these  fruits  have  been 
obvious  in  his  visible  life;  and,  though  the 
actual  strife  of  the  spirit  with  depravity,  the 
flesh  and  the  world  was  a conflict  which  no 
fellow-creature  could  see  and  a thing  which  he 
seldom,  or  never,  reported,  we  needed  not  to 
be  told  that  these  victories  never  come  to  a 
sinful  nature,  except  through  the  hard,  long, 


41 


persistent  battle  in  the  soul ; we  needed  not  to 
be  told  that  the  world  cannot  be  trodden  un- 
der foot  by  mortal  man  without  a struggle. 
It  is  impossible  here  to  go  into  details ; and  it 
is  unnecessary.  In  the  case  before  us  we  need 
only  refer  to  a single  instance.  Take  the  dead- 
ening ‘power  of  riches  upon  the  soul ; because 
this  was  his  greatest  peril  and  because  the 
subjugation  of  that  involves  the  subjugation 
of  every  other  opposing  influence.  Look  into 
the  book  of  God  and  find  it  written,  “How 
hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches  enter  into 
the  kingdom  of  God ! It  is  easier  for  a camel 
to  go  through  the  eye  of  a needle,  than  for  a 
rich  man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.” 
Consider,  from  your  own  experience  and  from 
your  observation  of  the  world,  how  hard  it  is 
for  the  moderately  successful  in  the  things  of 
time  and  sense  to  put  property  second  to  religion 
and  lay  their  possessions  at  the  feet  of  Jesus. 
Consider  with  what  greater  difficulty  the  rich 
man  casts  off  his  bags  of  gold  and  breaks 
away  from  his  connections  with  the  strong,  the 
brilliant  and  the  merry  to  join  himself  with  the 
poor,  the  obscure,  the  sorrowful  and  in  true 
simplicity  to  enter  the  low  and  narrow  gate 


42 


which  leads  to  the  spiritual  life.  You  will  then 
be  prepared  to  estimate  for  yourselves  what 
forces  of  the  enemy  he  was  compelled  to  face 
and  to  decide  whether  his  undoubted,  triumph- 
ant victory,  through  grace  Divine,  does  not 
sufficiently  proclaim  what  must  have  been  his 
experience  of  inward  fightings  and  what  was 
his  claim  to  say,  as  he  laid  down  the  armor  of 
. spiritual  conflict,  UI  have  fought  a good  fight.” 

The  warrior  has  gone  to  his  rest.  His  fight- 
ing is  over,  his  battles  are  won,  he  is  discharged 
into  the  joy  of  his  Lord.  Friendship  must 
weep.  Affection  must  bleed.  His  home  must 
be  solitary.  Silence  must  succeed  there  to  his 
pleasant,  inspiring  voice.  His  active  form  must 
be  missed  from  the  street,  his  influence  from 
the  walks  of  commerce,  his  cheerful  face  and 
kindly  word  from  the  circles  of  social  inter- 
course, his  venerable  head  from  the  sanctuary, 
his  earnest  petitions  and  impassioned  appeals 
from  the  meeting  for  prayer.  His  family  must 
lose  him.  Society  must  lose  him.  The  poor 
must  lose  him.  Struggling  young  men  must 
lose  him.  The  church  militant  must  lose  him. 
Allow  me  to  add,  his  pastor  must  lose  him,  with 
the  anguish  of  an  unspeakable  personal  loss. 


43 


But  what  a memory  he  has  left  to  this 
bereaved  family  ! Tell  me,  stricken  ones,  heavy 
as  is  the  blow,  whose  lot  of  similar  bereave- 
ment would  you  exchange  for  yours?  Tell 
me  how  the  merciful  Heavenly  Father  could 
have  tempered  more  mildly  the  inevitable 
stroke  ? Is  it  nothing  to  possess  the  imperish- 
able recollections  of  such  a life  ? Is  it  nothing 
that  his  earthly  existence  was  a triumph  in 
every  sense  of  that  word;  and,  though  he  de- 
parted in  the  strength  of  his  years,  that  he  had 
accomplished  an  extraordinary  work  for  you, 
for  society,  for  the  church  of  Christ  — enough  to 
satisfy  the  sanctified  ambition  of  any  man  — and 
left  behind  him  nothing,  but  the  eternal  cause 
of  his  Master,  unfinished  ? Is  it  nothing  that 
he  goes  with  the  benediction  of  thousands 
upon  his  head ; and  that  his  memory  will 
be  embalmed,  in  their  inmost  heart,  forever? 
Above  all,  is  it  nothing  to  be  able  with  rational 
confidence  to  follow  the  track  of  his  liberated 
spirit  and  see  him  take  his  seat  among  the 
blest  company  of  the  redeemed  above  ? Is  it 
nothing  to  know  just  where  you  may  find  him, 
while  you  need  only  prepare  your  own  robes, 
to  meet  him  at  the  marriage  of  the  Lamb  ? 


44 


Oh  remember  that  he  now  awaits  each  of  you, 
with  solicitous  affection  ! One  by  one  you  will 
pass  through  the  gate  which  he  has  just  en- 
tered. His  sainted  daughter  is  already  at  his 
side.  May  God  permit  him  to  gather  you  all, 
as  you  arrive ; and  when  the  last  of  you  is 
passed  within  the  vail,  to  lead  you  before  the 
Saviour,  there,  and  say,  Here  am  I and  the 
dear  ones  Thou  hast  given  me. 

Men  of  business  and  care ! here  is  a lesson 
for  you,  from  the  experience  of  one  of  your 
most  successful  associates.  In  the  full  view  of 
his  life  which  has  just  been  revived  in  your 
recollections,  can  you  believe  that  a greater 
engrossment  in  the  things  of  time  is  necessary 
to  successful  accumulation,  than  is  compatible 
with  that  weaning  from  the  world  and  that 
heavenly  mind  which  religion  professes  and 
evidently  demands  ? In  the  face  of  his  life, 
will  you  ever  say,  again,  that  a man  cannot 
make  money,  who  holds  it,  nevertheless,  as  a 
thing  second  to  his  religion  and  who  has  set 
out  in  earnest  to  secure,  at  all  events,  the 
riches  of  eternity?  Has  not  such  a life,  as  it 
progressed  for  thirty  years  under  your  obser- 
vation, been  sufficient  to  demonstrate  that  such 


/ 


45 


a sentiment  is  an  egregious,  a tremendous  mis- 
take ? He  walked  always,  in  equal  step  with 
the  foremost,  in  the  front  rank  of  worldly 
enterprise  and  worldly  success,  yet  he  was, 
also,  always  endeavoring  to  walk  with  his  God 
and  to  be  laying  up  a better  treasure  in 
heaven.  But  if  the  one,  or  the  other,  must  be 
sacrificed,  how  think  you  would  he  counsel 
you  to  choose  to-day  ? Do  you  imagine  that 
his  opinion  has  changed,  under  the  scenes  into 
which  he  has  passed  ? How  think  you  does 
he  regard  the  eternal  riches,  in  comparison 
with  those  of  earth,  to-day  ? Of  how  much 
account  is  an  earthly  fortune,  in  the  world  to 
which  he  has  so  suddenly  flown  ? I know  that 
I speak  what  his  own  lips  would  dictate,  when 
I press  upon  your  attention  that  caution  of 
Holy  Writ,  “Seek  first,”  at  all  risks,  “seek  first 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.” 

Brethren  and  friends  of  this  bereaved  con- 
gregation, a mighty  man  has  fallen  among  us. 
A pillar  is  broken  in  God’s  house.  We  are 
shaken  by  the  shock  of  the  stroke.  But  turn 
to  the  Scriptures  and  read,  that  “ no  strange 
thing  has  occurred  and  no  trial  has  overtaken 
us,  but  such  as  is  common  to  man.*”  It  is 


46 


God  who  has  called  His  servant  away.  The 
time  of  his  departure,  therefore,  is  right.  Let 
us  gird  us  anew  for  the  work  of  the  Lord ! 
Hearing  a voice  from  heaven  saying  to  us, 
“ Cease  ye  from  man,  whose  breath  is  in  his 
nostrils,”  let  us  manfully  yield  him  to  his 
Saviour  and  his  reward ! 


\ 


I 


I 


